


Your Fireworks Bloom in this Transient World

by survivalinstinctvalkyria



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, I may be dying but my love for them isn't, M/M, another fic named after an ml song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:49:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/survivalinstinctvalkyria/pseuds/survivalinstinctvalkyria
Summary: Brilliantly going out with a bang, the fire flower blooms with hope!As our eyes wander, your fireworks descend in this transient world.(As he watches the fireworks, Eichi wonders if his feelings for Keito can be made tangible through their bursts of color into the air.)





	Your Fireworks Bloom in this Transient World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guiltykissmyass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guiltykissmyass/gifts).



> Ooh another fic named after a million live song 
> 
> Big tired but I wrote this in the hotel lobby. My daily Maoritsu oneshots are going on hiatus.
> 
> I love them.

Glass veils the night sky, pushing it away, like a shadow that can't exist in a brilliant, radiant light. It shields the stars and moon, never quite clear from behind the other side of the glass.

 _That's fine_ , Eichi thinks, _it's nice to see them occasionally, and they're always there. Besides, they're so far away that it really isn't that thrilling!_

Faint afterimages from decades upon centuries of years ago don't appeal to the room’s captive. He thrives on revolution, that trickling electric pulse through his veins, angelic pale blue eyes becoming a window for an equally angelic utopia, not merely reflecting a flashback of the ragged past he tore away from.

Yes, dim yellowish lights that are only faint memories don't appeal to him at all, so it's perfectly fine.

Fireworks, though, are something he's always wished he could see in person. Well, 'see’ isn't the right word—he’s wanted to _experience_ the fireworks. He's wanted to have to strain his eyes against the impassive brightness of it all ~~~~, to feel his eardrums nearly burst at the loud _boom_ of it, he's wanted to feel the entirety of his world shake erratically as the explosions spread through the atmosphere.

 _That_ , he thinks, _must be what living feels like._

It's truly a shame that his doctor had deemed that the fireworks would put too much stress on his body all those years ago. Under those precautions, he isn't even allowed to tumble up to the hospital rooftop to watch them.

It's also a shame that his one true link to the outside world, the single person he formed a relationship with out of true desire to so, doesn't share his sentiments.

_“There are better things for me to devote my time to, going out to a festival is too much of commitment when I could be doing work,” Keito had told him with a furrowed brow._

_“But Keito,” he had whined in reply._

_“Either way, those things are just plain noisy, there are more relaxing things you could spend your summer around,” Keito said, and the case was closed._

If Keito had been trying to prove that he was an uncaring, totally not over-invested soul stuck with Eichi, then the fact that he had started going out to festivals to record the fireworks isn't helping his case. When Eichi has brought this up, Keito had just told him that a friend of his recorded them.

‘Lied’ would be a better word, actually.

Because, faintly, mostly muffled by the multi-colored expose of light that the camera was trained on, voices can be heard addressing the cameraman as 'Hasumi’, and alas, Keito's voice always replies.

But Eichi can't dwell on that now, not when he's sitting out here on the hospital’s rooftop, at Keito's request of all things. The air is humid and stifling, he worries absentmindedly if Keito might deem that as enough to drag him back. Whatever, he's not _that_ frail. There's a pleasant breeze, at least, pleasant for him, a boy who has been cooped up in a hospital room for as long as he can remember. It's warm and comforting against his cheek, like what he imagines the breath of a loving mother would feel like against the chin of her child as she buttoned his shirt for him before school, although he wouldn't know. That's fine—mothers aren't the only ones who can breathe warmly against someone's cheek.

“You came,” the sound footsteps break for a voice—Keito's voice—and Eichi looks up to newly arrived companion.

“Of course, there's no way I could just ignore your request, Keito,” Eichi responds in a singsong voice. “But I'm curious, why would you, of all people, call me up here?”

Keito shakes his head. “It's a surprise.”

“Now I'm even _more_ curious,” Eichi tells Keito, with sparkling eyes that seem like someone stole the stars from the night and scattered them among the midday sky.

“Don't annoy me, I'll leave,” Keito says, and it's enough to shut Eichi's mouth. Satisfied with that, Keito walks over to take a seat next to Eichi on the bench. “Your condition is improving.”

“You're aware? Wow, I didn't know that you got access to my health records,” Eichi replies

“It shouldn't be a surprise. I'm the one who has to make sure you're not collapsing at school,” Keito refutes, and that's the end of it.

Eichi just smiles. Keito is too good for him, really. Turning his head to look off the balcony, he eyes a cluster of bright lights and saturated colors, backed by the buzz of conversation off in the distance.

“Oh, there's a festival rather nearby, is there? I'm surprised you're spending time up with me rather than going down there to record the fireworks,” Eichi notes absentmindedly.

“Why would I—”

“You're _awful_ at hiding it, Keito,” Eichi interjects. “But the fact that you're letting me stay up here, that must mean there aren't any fireworks planned, hm?”

An odd look overtakes Keito's features, and a few moments pass in uncharacteristic silence, at least for the two of them.

“Regardless, the festival is close by,” Keito speaks up abruptly. “I thought you'd like to see it, even if it's just from the balcony.”

So that's why Keito had him come up here.

Eichi should've known; for all the scolding and chastisement he receives from Keito, the other boy really puts too much effort into making him happy, always inconveniencing himself and sacrificing his time and personal ambitions.

Regret boils in him, it's jagged edges digging into his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. _At the festivals,_ he thinks, _there must have at least been a few others with him._ Those people must be his friends, Keito must enjoy spending time with them, but now he can't, because he needs to attend to Eichi. That's another thing he's stolen from Keito, and the fact that he can name a list makes him want to bury himself and everyone else’s—especially Keito's—memories of him alongside his own fragile body.

“I could've snuck up here alone, you didn't need to come,” Eichi whispers, eyes clouded with a foggy emotion, a blurred line between _I can't thank you enough_ and _you need to stop doing this_.

Keito opens his mouth and says something, but a large bang to their side makes him unhearable.

It isn't hard for Eichi to find where the bang came from, in his peripheral vision he can see bright sparks of a cherry-red hue, and realizes:

_Fireworks._

Instantly, his vision is drawn to the sky, to the bursts of color that cascade into the air and stream in different directions, before trickling down like colored drops of rain. He can't hear anything besides the hissing sound as the fireworks rise and the loud _boom_ as they break apart into an exposé of color—emotion, life—in all its glory, just as it has eluded him. His body shakes with every tremor, but he doesn't find himself caring—he can't, not when what he's been waiting for his entire life is right in front him. It's ethereal, more so than he thinks he's ever found angels to be.

They're ephemeral, though, quieting down after a few minutes. Eichi mourns them as their corpses—black ashes with a faint trailing light—fall down the ground. As they die down slightly, Eichi looks back to Keito.

He feels something in his chest drop when he looks at his childhood friend. He isn't looking at the fireworks, rather, gazing fondly at Eichi, like Eichi is exploding into an array of hues across the sky, and dancing between the stars—like it's Eichi's bright colors that are dying his face in a glow of red and green and yellow, and colors which names have escaped him in the heat of the moment. _Chartreuse_ , Eichi remembers, _that's a color I can't forget._ Right, he can't forget the color of Keito's eyes, not when they're shining brightly with specks of every color imaginable dancing within them.

“They're pretty, aren't they, Eichi?” he asks gently.

“They are,” Eichi replies. He looks back out the fireworks, but they're blurry now, as if someone had turned his vision into a kaleidoscope, with nothing but undefined blurs of color against a dark blue backdrop. His consciousness jokes about it in the back of his head, something like _this is how everything must look for Keito when he takes off his glasses._

 _I'm crying_ , he realizes, and he reaches to wipe tears from his eyes.

Keito's hand is faster, calloused fingers gently brushes the tears from Eichi’s face. The sensation causes Eichi's heart to jump, and his skin burns where Keito brushes his hand against his skin, like he's a wizard who commands fire in his pulse. “Don't cry, I want you to be able to see your surprise clearly.”

“It's just… I'm so happy, Keito,” Eichi tells him with a quivering voice.

“I know, but you still have one more surprise left; it'd be a shame if you were to miss it.”

“ _Another?_ ” Eichi wonders out loud, and Keito nods.

“Ah, it's time. Focus on the fireworks, read what they say,” Keito says, although his own eyes don't leave Eichi's profile.

 _A message?_ It must be something personal from Keito, then, and the excitement of what exactly Keito could be trying to tell him makes Eichi feel like there are fireworks under his skin.

The last of the fireworks die off, and the world goes hush for a moment—a transience of peace, though everyone is still drunk off the cheer from the festival. Even though everything is settling down, Eichi's pulse only grows more rapid, stronger, like there is a bed of taiko drums under his skin.

Suddenly, several—more than Eichi can count, anyway—fireworks burst into the air. The louder the combined hissing of their rise gets, the more tension Eichi feels dancing in his veins.

Until they burst, with a single collective bang that makes Eichi flinch and shut his head eyes instinctively.

Until he remembers what Keito had said, these fireworks should have a message for him, so he opens his eyes. Once he catches sight of the messages, he blinks, one, twice, but I remains unchanging.

_I love you._

Transcribed into the air for the world to see, like Keito had launched his own feelings up to rest among the stars, Eichi's commits the sight to memory as they fade from his vision.

Even though the thought that the fireworks’ sparks could land on him in inconceivable, Eichi still thinks that's that's what the scorching feeling all over Eichi’s body is. Keito burning him with his love, a scorching flame of color and passion, something Eichi would have never dreamed of.

When he turns to look back at Keito, he sees that the boy’s eyes are still trained on him, chartreuse eyes glimmering with pure _emotion_ , and if the fireworks made Eichi’s heart want to burst, then it's surely already exploded by now.

“Keito, I…”

Even as Eichi's voice falters, Keito's gaze remains steady, calm, patient.

“I love you, too, so much.”

 _Thank you,_ he tries to say, as well, but a choked sob steals his words.

And then he's reaching to wrap his arms around Keito's neck, leaning his forehead against Keito's.

 _Keito took his glasses off_ , he realizes belatedly.

Keito's steady gaze softens into a smile so in love, that Eichi wonders what god took pity on him to gift him with the reincarnation of an angel.

Their lips meet for a kiss, and Eichi's first thought is that fireworks must being going off between their lips, because this is the most alive he's ever felt.

When they part, Eichi leans down to rest his head in the crook of Keito's neck, relishing in the warmth of his skin, in the sensation of being surrounded by nothing but Keito, Keito, _Keito._ When he feels Keito lean against the top of his head, he feels truly safe.

“I'd like to go see the fireworks with you from now on,” he says, and feels Keito smiles against his hair.

“Of course, Eichi, of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very tired but I still wanted to post this.


End file.
